s too beautiful to be real! I am not worthy of such
happiness! Sometimes I dare not think too much of it lest it should all
prove to be only a dream! For surely no one in the world could wish for
a better life than we shall live--Angus and I--in this dear little
cottage together,--he with his writing, which I know will some day move
the world,--and I with my usual work, helping as much as I can to make
his life sweet to him. For we have the great secret of all joy--we love
each other!"

With her eyes full of the dreamy light of inward heart's content, she
turned and went into the house. The sight of David's empty chair by the
fire troubled her,--but she tried to believe that Angus would succeed in
finding him on the highroad, and in persuading him to return at once.
Towards noon Mrs. Twitt came in, somewhat out of breath, on account of
having climbed the village street more rapidly than was her custom on
such a warm day as it had turned out to be, and straightway began
conversation.

"Wonders 'ull never cease, Mis' Deane, an' that's a fact!" she said,
wiping her hot face with the corner of her apron--"An' while there's
life there's 'ope! I'd as soon 'a thought o' Weircombe Church walkin'
down to the shore an' turnin' itself into a fishin' smack, as that you'd
a' got engaged to be married! I would, an' that's a Gospel truth! Ye
seemed so steady like an' settled--lor' a mussy me!" And here, despite
her effort to look serious, a broad smile got the better of her. "An' a
fine man too you've got,--none o' your scallywag weaklings as one sees
too much of nowadays, but a real upright sort o' chap wi' no nonsense
about 'im. An' I wishes ye well, Mary, my dear,"--and the worthy soul
took Mary's hand in hers and gave her a hearty kiss. "For it's never too
late to mend, as the Scripter tells us, an' forbye ye're not in yer
green gooseberry days there's those as thinks ripe fruit better than
sour-growin' young codlings. An' ye may take 'art o' grace for one
thing--them as marries young settles quickly old--an' to look at the
skin an' the 'air an' the eyes of ye, you beat ivery gel I've ivir seen
in the twenties, so there's good preservin' stuff in ye wot'll last. An'
I bet you're more fond o' the man ye've got late than if ye'd caught 'im
early!"

Mary laughed, but her eyes were full of wistful tenderness.

"I love him very dearly," she said simply--"And I know he's a great deal
too good for me."

Mrs. Twitt sniffed meaningly